Forever Alone
by Herenya Brandybuck
Summary: On the outside, Mary thinks men are a waste of time. But is she really hiding behind the practical thoughts that have become a mask?
1. Nobody's Listening

**Chapter 1  
Nobody's Listening**

"The carriage from Netherfield!"

"It's stopping out front!"

"A young gentleman is getting out. It must be Mr. Bingley!"

"He has a fine blue coat."

"A lady is with him, and another gentleman."

Mary Bennet heard the excited voices of her younger sisters, Catherine and Lydia, chatter rapidly as she listened uninterestedly from her small room upstairs. Her room was right above the living-room, and one could hear everything that was said. At the moment, this was unfortunate, as Mary was trying to study. She rolled her eyes as Mama's voice wafted up to her room.

"Elizabeth, smooth down your hair, and watch your sharp tongue! Jane, my dear, be composed, as I am. We must not show undue interest. Lydia and Kitty, tone down your voices, remember your manners, and Kitty, do stop coughing! Oh, and Hill, tell Mary to come down immediately."

There was a flurry, then a pause. After a while, Mary heard her father speak.

"My dear, I think for the moment your family is under control," Mr. Bennet said dryly.

Mary snickered. His sarcasm and dry humor was the only way he must've been able to survive in a houseful of women, most of them as silly as their mother! She pitied him.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door that made her jump. Hill, the butler, stuck his head in and started to speak, but Mary cut him off. "I know, I know. Mama wants me downstairs. I'll come in a moment."

Hill chuckled at her procrastination, then bowed and stepped out of the room. Mary went back to her studies, promising herself she would go in a moment just to appease her mother.

She then heard the door shut and Hill announced the visitors as Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, and Mr. Darcy. As hard as she was trying to ignore the voices as they introduced themselves and began to make conversation, it was impossible to study with the distraction. She flopped down on her bed, and then sat back up straight, thinking, _I've been spending too much time with Kitty! _She smoothed her hair and her dress, then grabbed her shawl (it was chilly downstairs) and slowly, reluctantly began making her way downstairs.

Mr. Darcy was speaking disdainfully of dancing when she burst in the door and crossed the room to stand by Papa's side. He made the introductions and she curtsied, then took a good look at the visitors as the conversation continued. Miss Bingley was a beautiful, proud young woman a little older than Jane. She seemed to wear a perpetual sneer and look down her nose at the entire Bennet family. Mr. Darcy was no better, only he seemed to make even less of an attempt to be cordial.

But then Mary looked at Mr. Bingley. He was tall, handsome, and much more good-natured than his companions. A joking half-smile never left his face. Right now he seemed to be enamored with Jane, who was returning the attention.

Mary bit her lip as she noticed that she might as well have been a part of the settee or a painting on the wall. Everyone in the room, save Papa, was carrying on as if she hadn't even been there. Desperate to be noticed, especially by this handsome guest, she spoke at the slightest break in the conversation directly to the visitors.

"I am sorry I was not present when I was called. I have been reading."

Mr. Bennet nodded, but none of the guests seemed to know why she had spoken.

Wishing she had kept her mouth shut, yet feeling the need to say something else, she stammered, "One finds such comfort in a good volume of sensible thoughts..."

This time she got a response from the handsome Mr. Bingley, who nodded and started to reply, but was cut off by his sister who had completely ignored the remark. "What a delightful library _you _have, Mr. Darcy, at Pemberley."

Mary was disgusted with this proud woman, but masked it well in remarking offhandedly aside to her father about how attracted Mr. Bingley was to Jane. The rest of the conversation went on without including Mary in the least, and finally the guests prepared to leave. As they were walking out the door, Hill came in to announce another visitor. Mary was so distracted that she didn't even hear Hill say the name of the caller. A few moments later, as the Bingleys and Mr. Darcy were walking out the door, this other visitor came in. Mary's heart skipped a beat when she saw Mr. Wickham enter.

George Wickham was a young, good-humored officer who was often the subject of interest to Mary's younger sisters. What Mary never told her sisters was that Wickham was very much a subject of interest to her as well. Little did he know that she even existed, however. So it was, and so it always would be for Mary, the plain one. She thought he was very good-looking, witty, and charming but had never allowed herself to think about him for more than a moment, because she knew there was no point. He would never admire her, and she thought she might as well not set herself up for disappointment.

Once the Bingleys and Mr. Darcy had left, Mr. Wickham had come in. Mr. Bennet excused himself to his library, and Mary, feeling her face grow hot, excused herself to her room. Once she closed the door to the living-room, she immediately began running up the stairs to her room. When she was halfway up the stairs, she changed her mind and went around to the back door of her father's library. She could've gotten some more studying done, but she was tired of being alone, and she would much rather go into the library and have a sensible conversation with her father than go back into the living-room and listen to Lydia, Kitty, and Lizzy flirt, while thinking thoughts she would rather not think about a certain young officer.


	2. World I Don't Belong

**Chapter 2  
****World I Don't Belong **

"I simply don't understand why you insisted on dragging me along, Kitty!" Mary complained aside to Catherine as she and her sisters made their way to Netherfield for the ball. "You know I don't dance, and probably won't speak to anyone the whole night."

"Then you should put yourself out to be more sociable. _I _don't understand why on earth you _don't_ want to go. So many officers will be there. Mr. Bingley promised!"

"Kitty, you know the bit about the officers doesn't attract me at all. Do you know if they'll have a string group, or will the music all be piano?"

"Mary, you're not supposed to listen to it! You're supposed to _dance _to it!" Kitty said emphatically, then giggled. Then she sobered somewhat. "I wonder if Mr. Wickham will be there?"

Mary shrugged, though inside she was wondering the same thing. She didn't know why she cared. If there weren't enough girls outside the family for him to dance with, there were certainly enough of her sisters to keep him occupied. She also knew that three of them would be fighting for his attention. She didn't know how on earth Lizzy, Kitty, and Lydia managed to be agreeable to one another when he was around, with all of them very attracted to him. She was interrupted out of her reverie with Kitty asking whether or not her dress was wrinkled.

They arrived at Netherfield in a matter of minutes. All the girls were chattering and giggling, except for Mary, who hung back a bit as they were shown in. She had only been to one other ball, and that had been when she was fifteen. Lizzy and Jane had brought her along somewhat forcefully, and she had stood against the wall the entire time watching Elizabeth make a fool of herself dancing with some of the young men, and Jane trying discreetly to tell her to settle down. How Lizzy had changed since then, though Mary felt her younger sisters more than took her place as the wild one of the family.

Mary didn't realize that she had fallen so behind until Kitty grabbed her arm and whispered, "Come on--Oh Mary, Mr. Denny is here! Is my dress wrinkled?"

"Kitty, I just told you no! How could it have gotten wrinkled just walking from the carriage to the building? Please don't ask ag--" But Kitty wasn't listening. She dashed off to catch up with Lydia, leaving Mary by herself. After glancing at who all was there (she tried to tell herself that she wasn't looking for Mr. Wickham, who didn't seem to be there), she commented to Lizzy about how many people that were there. She was soon left talking to air while Lizzy walked away to speak with Charlotte.

Having no one else left to talk to, she remarked to Jane about the vivacity of the piece that was being played when they entered. Jane replied, "Oh, yes, Mary. It's lovely. Oh, did you see Mr. Bingley? I really should go speak to him now that the dance is over." Then she walked off.

Mary rolled her eyes and laughed to herself. She thought her younger sisters were silly, but the older ones were just as bad! She pushed a feeling of hurt at being brushed off out of her thoughts, then proceeded to endure the long night of watching people make fools of themselves.

Needless to say, she spent the evening alone, with no one speaking to her or even noticing her presence. Somehow, her thoughts fell to wishing she could be a part of the dance, laughing and having fun. No matter how hard she tried, however, she could never bring herself to speak with anyone. By the end of the evening, she found that against her better judgment, she was dying to live in a world she didn't belong.


	3. My Disguise

**Chapter 3  
My Disguise**

Mary woke up a little late a few days later. She could hear Mr. Collins reading monotonously from _Fordyce's Sermons _to her sisters as she dressed. As usual, she wore a gray dress with a black blouse underneath, and a black shawl over it all. As she was pulling her long brown hair straight back into a bun, Kitty slipped into the room after giving a soft knock.

She flopped down on the bed in a rather ungraceful manner and groaned. "Mary, you should be glad you slept late. Lydia and I have had to listen to--"

"I know, Kitty. I've been listening. You forget, you can hear everything that is said up here. Sometimes it can be advantageous, but when it's Mr. Collins…" She trailed off.

"I know. How I wish he would leave!" Kitty complained. "Why is he here, anyway? I can see no reason at all for his unwanted visit!"

"Catherine, for all your wild imagination, you can't even figure out why Mr. Collins is here? He's here to find a wife, can't you see that?"

"How on earth did you know that?"

"I can hear everything from up here, remember? Maybe it's not so obvious, but he stated his purpose to Mama and Papa when he first arrived. So far, it seems, he's not had a bit of luck. I think he's after Lizzy, but I can't be sure."

And so the two sisters spent the morning in its entirety talking. Of all her sisters, Mary was closest to Kitty, though they had little in common. Mary did feel that Kitty was able to understand her better than anyone else, as she was often ignored as well because of the dramatic Lydia. Mary often grew tired of Kitty coming to her and whining or giggling, but she never showed it; rather, she tried to steer her favorite sister away from Lydia's unchangeable vain ways. In addition to this common ground, they had the same dark hazel eyes: not green, not brown, but a mixture of them both. Nobody knew where they got their eyes. Papa had dark brown eyes, which Lizzy had inherited, and Mama had given Jane and Lydia light blue eyes, though Lydia often complained that she wished they were bluer.

Even in talking with her closest sister, this morning as always, Mary still kept up her facade. In all Kitty's constant chatter about men, she acted like she thought it was all a waste of time. And indeed, Kitty's obsession was. But Mary's practical comments about the subject, as she had admitted to herself once or twice, were merely a mask, a front to hide her longing to live as her sisters lived. She knew she couldn't do a thing about it, so she hid behind her books and her music and acted like she never gave men a second thought. She never allowed herself to let down her disguise. She was too afraid of getting hurt.

After they had talked the morning away, they were summoned downstairs for dinner. As they walked downstairs, Kitty was giggling and chattering with Mary patiently lending her an ear; after they left her room, however, she never said word.

As soon as they had finished dinner, Kitty and Lydia left to go to Meryton. Mary retired to the drawing room to practice on the pianoforte. For hours upon hours she practiced, not so much because she enjoyed it as much as because there was simply nothing else to do.

After she had been playing for the better part of the afternoon, she began playing Beethoven's _Sonata quasi una Fantasia_, which she played with all the passion she had in her. Every time she played this piece, she lost herself in the music, gave herself completely up to it. Now she played it perfectly, contrasting the dynamics with practiced skill and articulation without looking up.

As soon as she finished the mournful piece, a voice spoke from the back of the room, making her start.

"That was breathtaking!" Mr. Wickham said as he crossed over to the piano. "I had no idea you could play like that!"

Mary turned around on the bench, still startled. "I didn't know anyone was listening," she said softly.

"I couldn't help but hear. I was escorting your younger sisters home and came in merely out of courtesy. But your mother had something to discuss with them and suggested that Elizabeth may be around somewhere. I thought it was she who was playing." He spoke gently. "I'm sorry if I startled you."

"Oh, no, d-don't be…" Mary stammered, unused to such attention. She felt a faint blush creep up the sides of her face as he reiterated, "That was wonderful."

All too soon, yet not soon enough, he straightened up and said, "Well, I really must be going. But I do hope to see you again soon." With that, he left.

Mary sighed and allowed herself to wonder whether he really meant that he hoped to see her soon. But only for a brief moment, however, for the pragmatism that had become her signature soon took over and she insisted to herself that he was just being polite.

Still, after a couple of moments of thoughtfulness, she found herself looking to the door where he had left and wondering what might have been.


	4. Someone To Hear Me

Chapter 4

Someone To Hear Me

A few days later found the rain pouring down on Mary's forlorn figure as she walked home from mailing a letter for Kitty, who had begged not to have to go out in the downpour. Her dark gray, almost black skirt was barely affected by the mud that splashed on it as she walked. She was freezing, but she kept trudging since she had already passed town, and any chance to get indoors until the rain slacked up were behind her. If anyone had been around, they would have been able to hear her muttering to herself.

"Mr. Collins indeed! Who does he think he is, coming in and proposing to Lizzy like that! Surely he knows that any one of the four of them would refuse him without even thinking about it!" She stopped, realizing that she hadn't even considered that _she _was a Bennet girl too and that he very well may ask her if all else fails.

"But why should I even consider his asking me? Not that I want him to; I would be appalled! But still. It's the whole idea. He might as well not even know I exist!" She paused, then whispered, and not for the first time, "No one does..."

She wrapped her shawl around her thin frame and, for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to cry. Not over Mr. Collins, of course, but over Mr. Wickham and Mr. Bingley and all the men that she never allowed herself to love because she knew her loving someone was vain, painfully vain, and because she knew she would never be loved in return. Not only did she cry over love, or the lack of it, but she cried over all the times that her family had ignored her and all the times that Mary, the plain one, had been forgotten, unnoticed, invisible.

She swore to herself that no one would ever know about her outburst of emotion that had been accumulating over eighteen years, and she thanked Heaven above that she was on a country road that no one ever traveled. Just at that moment, she heard a carriage behind her. Exasperated, and still overwhelmed with self-pity, she kept walking, hoping that it would not stop.

It did. She heard someone get out and walk toward her, but never did she slow, or look up, for the tears still streaked her face, still flowed unable to cease. The person ran to catch up with her, then gently took her by the arms and turned her around to face him.

It was Wickham, looking just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. His surprise faded into concern as he recognized the tears on her face. "Why Mary, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Can I do something? I could--"

She looked away and he trailed off, then spoke again. "Well, at least get into the carriage. You'll freeze to death out here." He took off his coat and wrapped it around her soaking wet body, and she pulled it tighter, grateful for the much-needed source of warmth.

He then proceeded to nudge her towards the carriage. Finally, after much hesitation, she gave a resigned sigh and complied, having no strength left in her to argue with. Inside the carriage, she sat as quietly as she could, drawing as little attention as possible to the tears that had vanished from her face just moments ago.

Wickham was the first to speak. "What _was _wrong back there? I've never seen you upset. It must have been something bad."

"I, I don't want to talk about it. It's not something anyone would understand." Her voice was small and unsteady.

"I hate to see one of the Bennet sisters so distraught. You're sure there's nothing I can do?"

_So he thinks of me as one of them? Maybe there's hope after all. _"Thank you very much, but you've already helped more than I can say." It was then that she noticed that the carriage hadn't moved. "Why are we not going?"

"I just wanted to make certain that you would be all right. You worried me for a moment or two. You usually seem fairly complacent, so to see tears on your face made me think that you were sick or hurt."

_I wonder if heartsick counts? _"Your concern is very…touching, " she said very softly, as if she almost didn't want him to hear her.

"As long as you'll be all right," he said, and then moved the carriage along. He seemed to be unaware that she was constantly glancing his way, searching his face to try and figure out why today of all days he was being so kind to her. One time as she looked over at him, she caught his eye and he smiled softly at her.

That prompted her to ask a question she didn't really mean to ask, it just slipped out. "Why are you doing this?" She blushed, then quickly tried to smooth it over. "I…I meant…"

He looked at her, puzzled. "Doing what?"

She paused, then hesitantly started to explain herself. "I…I'm not trying to complain, but, well…nobody's ever really cared if I was cold or wet…or…sad. Why you? Why now?" She didn't mean for it all to come out. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back. It did feel kind of freeing, however, for the first time in her life to wear her heart on her sleeve and say what she was thinking. Maybe this time it was safe to really feel for once. Maybe she _could_ let her attraction for Mr. Wickham develop into something more.

"Oh, Mary…I never knew you felt like that! I…well, I suppose I always assumed you _wanted _to be left alone with your books and your music. As for now, well, I see one of the Bennet sisters out in the rain, I come to her rescue. Plain and simple. Whether you're Elizabeth, Kitty…or Mary. You're _all _dear to me." He smiled. "Not just the ones who flirt."

This brought a smile to her lips. "Ah! You do know how to smile," Wickham said teasingly, then chuckled. For some reason, Mary's smile turned into a giggle that couldn't keep from escaping. She couldn't believe it. All in one day, she had cried, smiled, and laughed, all for the first time in who knows when. _If this is what happens when I let myself feel…_

Suddenly she felt his arm around her, pulling her close. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder, sinking deep into a reverie of thoughts that she had never allowed herself to think before.

She was snapped out of her reverie a few minutes later when the carriage stopped. "You're home," Wickham said, then jumped out of the carriage. He helped her down, then offered his arm, which she took as they walked inside.

Once they got inside the parlor, Mary looked around and saw no one, not even Hill. She heard Kitty and Lydia laughing upstairs, but it seemed no one was downstairs. Wickham let go of her arm and turned around to face her. He leaned closer until his face was only inches from hers. He looked in her eyes, and for the first time in her life, she didn't avert her gaze. Eye contact was something new to her, but she couldn't look away from his captivating deep, blue eyes. After a few moments, he said simply, "Will you be all right?"

Everything inside her was screaming, _don't go!_ All she said was, "Yes. Thank you for everything. Everything."

He backed away from her and smiled. "I'll always be here for you, Mary. Just remember that." Then he walked out the door.

Mary didn't know how long she stood there gazing after him, lost in a daydream. Finally, after what seemed like hours, a screaming giggle from Kitty upstairs jolted her and she quickly made her way up to her room.

She flopped down on her bed and just lay there, thinking. And she had much to think about. The tears she'd cried were washed away. Finishing the thought she'd had in the carriage, she said to herself, _If this is what happens when I let myself feel, then why have I been keeping myself from it all these years? Why didn't I realize this sooner? It's true, I can't change my personality, and it's in my personality to be introverted and quiet and keep to my books, but why did it take me so long to see that all I had to do was feel? _

She sat up, a smile on her face as she thought of something else. _Surely I'm attracted to Mr. Wickham, but…now that I realize my emotions for what they are…do I love him? _Then another thought came to her. _Does he feel the same way?_

She closed her eyes and re-lived each moment of her encounter with Wickham. Surely he must feel the same way. Everything he said revealed that he cared for her. Especially the look in his eye just before they parted.

A pound on the door that could only be Kitty forced her out of her thoughts. She went to open the door and shook the uncharacteristic smile off of her face. She knew she couldn't tell Kitty, but it would be hard to keep her unexpected happiness to herself.


	5. What It Means To Be Alone

**A/N: I'm not allowed to post the lyrics, and I don't wanna cause any trouble so I won't, but this story is based on Earshot's "Wait." Go and look up the lyrics after reading this. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 5  
What It Means to be Alone**

The next morning Mary woke up a little earlier than usual. She rose out of bed and rather than putting on her gray or black dresses, she pulled out a dark blue one that she never wore except when the family was having a party. Instead of twisting her long hair into a bun, she brushed it out, pulled the sides back, and let the rest hang long. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and for the first time in her life, she didn't see herself as plain. Maybe even pretty.

With an uncharacteristic spring in her step, she walked downstairs, which she found peaceful and empty. The rest of the family wasn't up yet. She walked into the living-room, then wandered over to the windowed double-doors that led to the garden. It was sunny and clear outside, and she noticed that birds were singing and butterflies were flitting about the garden as she pushed the doors open and meandered through the garden.

She spent about half an hour just walking in the garden before she headed back inside. The family still wasn't up, but she did hear the cook clanging in the kitchen. Mary found herself following the well-known way to the drawing-room to play piano. Maybe this time she would play a musette or something. But before she could sit down at the piano, she heard Jane and Lizzy coming downstairs. Actually feeling somewhat talkative, she went to meet them.

"Good morning, Mary. You're up early," Jane greeted when she saw her.

"Oh, yes, well, it's a beautiful day, and I don't want to waste it. Oh, I was out walking in the garden and I saw the most beautiful bird. I'm not sure what it was, though. Maybe it's still out there." Mary noticed her sisters look at each other, half amused, half surprised to hear their reserved sister so talkative.

"What color—" Lizzy was interrupted by their more noisy sisters loudly coming down the stairs.

"I'm hungry! It's already half past eight!" Kitty whined.

"Maybe a little hunger would do you some good," Lydia said as she poked her in the stomach. This brought more whines from Kitty.

Mary shook her head. So much for a peaceful morning.

Noon came and found Mary sitting on the windowsill in the drawing-room, curled up in the sun like a cat, reading. She jumped up when she heard voices just outside the door. It was Mr. Wickham, trying to persuade Elizabeth to go for a walk with him.

Of course, Kitty and Lydia were right there as well, competing for his attention. "_I _amnever too busy to go walking with a handsome man in a red coat!" Lydia giggled. Then Lizzy quickly stepped in and said that she had a mind to walk with him a little way and sent the younger girls upstairs.

Mary smiled, ran her fingers through her hair to comb it out, then glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the bookcase. Her cheeks had a rosy glow from sitting in the sun, and the blue dress made her eyes look greener than usual. Satisfied, and even pleased, she headed out to meet Elizabeth and Wickham, much anticipating a great battle with her sisters for his attention.

She quickly walked through the house, but not seeing them, she gave up her search and headed back to the drawing-room. _After all, it was my playing the piano that attracted him in here the other day. Maybe he will hear it again._

She sat down and began playing, but only for a few minutes. She soon heard Elizabeth's voice outside the door. Still playing, but quietly enough that she could hear what they said, she listened to her sister groan. "Mary is practicing _again!_ She's always at that piano, though it's not exactly pleasant for the rest of us."

Irritated at her sister, Mary listened closely for Wickham's response. To her painful surprise, he laughed. "Yes. Let's take a shortcut through the garden."

Mary was shocked. She thought he cared! She really, really believed him! _Well, maybe it wasn't Wickham. Maybe it was someone who sounds like him. I never actually heard them say his name. _

She quietly slipped out after them, then headed out the side door that also led to the garden. She would meet them out there and see for herself. Walking around to where they were, she smoothed down her hair once again and then looked up for them. Seeing them, she headed toward them.

Neither one of them saw her. They were engrossed in conversation, laughing and teasing. Elizabeth looked straight at her, but didn't even acknowledge that she was there. Once she met them on the path, instead of stopping to talk as she had intended to do, she kept walking. Never stopping, she pushed the door to the house open, then ran all the way up to her room where she slumped down in the chair by her desk. She rested her head in her hands, but she didn't cry. No, that was yesterday. All she could do today was feel sorry for herself and rebuke herself for letting her guard down.

He's a flirt. That's all he is and all he'll ever be. I knew that. So what on earth possessed me to feel for him like that?

_No more, _she decided. _I was happy enough before yesterday afternoon. There's no reason why I shouldn't go back to that. Even if I am…_

_Forever alone._

_**The end.**_


End file.
